


Too Late

by Coalmine301



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [4]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Impailing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coalmine301/pseuds/Coalmine301
Summary: Obi-wan knew he would have firm words to whoever gathered this intel once they got off this damned rock. If they got off, that is.It was looking less and less likely with every passing second.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138955
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Febuwhump prompt "Impailing"

“We need backup now,” Obi-wan shouted into his comm.

This whole assault had been a disaster. Intel was way off, the 212th rushing blindly ahead to face a force three times their size. In moments they had been overwhelmed and steadily pushed back.

What’s more, a seemingly neutral planet was staunchly in support of the Separatists. And just as staunchly against the Republic.

Obi-wan knew he would have firm words to whoever gathered this intel once they got off this damned rock. If they got off, that is.

It was looking less and less likely with every passing second.

“Still half an hour out, Master,” Anakin’s voice replied over the comm. That was nowhere near good enough. “Just hang on for a little bit longer.”

“Anakin, we don’t have a little bit longer!”

The other general might have responded, but it was quickly swallowed up by the impact of a mortar round.

Cursing, Obi-wan ducked behind a nearby boulder. Cody appeared at his side, fear radiating off the commander despite his professional front.

Another round went off, the cries of a dozen troopers cut abruptly short. 

He wasn’t sure how much longer they would last here.

“What are your orders, sir?” Cody asked.

“Try to stay alive until Anakin arrives with reinforcements.” Other than that there wasn’t a whole lot they could do.

Obi-wan peeked over the rock just in time to see another cluster of clones get vaporized by a blast. Hastily he ducked back, heart pounding in his ears.

“Come on, Anakin,” he muttered under his breath. “Hurry up.”

Yes, the 501st did arrive eventually.

But the locals got there first.

* * *

They’d been executed. The entirety of the 212th battalion run through with spears like a kebab. Blood dripped freely to feed the soil below. 

There was a certain grotesque art to it. Whoever the executioner was had arranged the clones in two long rows like a politician might arrange marble statues. Plastoid armor removed, the clones’ pain was preserved for all to see.

Despite the identical faces, no two “statues” were the same. Whoever mysterious assailant was, it was clear they had had some fun with their execution methods. Sometimes a pole would enter just above the tailbone, ripping through the spine in its deadly assent. Sometimes it would enter through the thigh, forcing the leg to bend, before piercing the downturned skull. 

Sometimes there would be multiple stakes. Whatever it took to capture a truly dynamic pose.

Ahsoka whimpered and behind him someone vomited. Anakin wasn’t sure how he managed to not do the same.

And at the head of the make-shift corridor was the general.

Anakin’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. Instinctively he rushed over, seeing if there was anything he could do to help.

It soon became clear there wasn’t.

The stake had entered through the bottom of Obi-wan’s left foot, tearing through muscle and bone in its relentless path. It eventually erupted through the opposite side of his neck, jugular destroyed.

Obi-wan was dead, his corpse long since cold.

But in Anakin’s dreams he wasn’t.

Night after night the blonde found himself standing here in that accursed imitation of a garden. That copper head rolled, azure eyes staring accusingly into his own. “Why didn’t you save me?”

Anakin swallowed dryly. “M-Master?”

“I was counting on you, we were all counting on you,” Obi-wan snarled, bloody froth falling from his lips. “And yet you failed us. You failed us all.”

Tears pooled in Anakin’s eyes. Yet his throat constricted, the words unable to escape.

“Some chosen one you are. Infinite power right at your fingertips, and yet you can’t even save your loved ones. Pathetic,” his head lazily rolled again. “I thought you loved me. I thought we were friends, Anakin!”

“We are,” he croaked. 

This man was his best friend. They could read each other with just a glance, knew the punchline of every joke, could communicate without a sound. Even in the beginning Obi-wan had opened himself up to him, letting Anakin uddle close when the nightmares became too much.

At that point “friend”, even “best friend”, wasn’t a good enough word. They were brothers in all but blood, a pair of souls carved for each other. 

Anakin remembered looking at this man and thinking he’d do anything for Obi-wan.

And yet he couldn’t save him.

Anakin Skywalker awoke with tears on his face and his brother’s name on his lips.


End file.
